


The Sacrifices We Make

by readerwriterme



Series: Like a Lamb to Slaughter [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Brief Mentions Of Rape, Castiel is an asshole, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, Lawyer Ruby, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major character death - Freeform, Minor Character Death, Mob Boss Castiel, Mob Violence, Russian Mafia, Soulless Sam Winchester, Suicide, Touch-Starved, author stereotypes lots of nationalities, no actual rape, no happy ending, spoilers in the tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-08 19:19:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17392169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readerwriterme/pseuds/readerwriterme
Summary: When Sam Winchester is convicted of the brutal murder of his fiancee, Jessica and sentenced to death, Dean has to find a way to save him.  Out of money and out of time, Dean sells his soul to the Russian Mob.  He never expected a fairy tale, but what he got would have made the Brother's Grimm uneasy.





	1. 281 days

**Author's Note:**

> 1.) This work is currently un-beta'd. If anyone wants the job, PM me.
> 
> 2.) It's mostly complete. I am working on the finer points but don't have a posting schedule as of now. Hopefully, it'll be weekly if not more often.
> 
> 3.) I don't know anything about California Penal code. I googled. Sorry if anything is wrong. I am also not a native Russian speaker so if I got those parts wrong, my bad.
> 
> 4.) I don't own any part of Supernatural or it's characters. I just borrowed them for a little bit...

_36 days._

It was like a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. 36 days from arrest to trial to conviction to sentencing to appeal. The fastest capital trial in history and he got to be a part of it because _of course_ he did. He was a Winchester after all.

36 days and thousands upon thousands of dollars and Sam was still going to be executed.

_Willful, malicious, heinous, deliberate, intent, vicious, premeditated._ These are all words Dean has become reacquainted with over the last 36 days. Words he knew but never thought about. Words he never associated with his baby brother. He can’t remember any of the other details of the trial. It’s a blur and he seems to have blocked it all out, but he can remember those words. They run on a loop in his head.

The brutal murder of Jessica Moore was all anyone could talk about. The beautiful nurse hacked to bits by her attorney fiancée. Gruesome crime scene photos circulated the internet despite the best efforts of the police department to subdue them. The public was out for justice and blood and Sam Winchester was the perfect scapegoat.

It didn’t matter that Sam had maintained his innocence throughout the trial. Nor did it matter that he had the best attorney his firm had to offer. One of the best defense attorneys in the state if Sam was to be believed. He’d even taken the case pro-bono because he liked Sam. It hadn’t mattered in the slightest. Sam had lost. All 12 jurors had quickly come back with a guilty verdict and a recommendation for the death penalty.

After initial sentencing, Sam’s lawyer had told Dean in confidence that he thought the judge and jury had been paid off and that the cops were setting Sam up. He needed Dean to hire someone to sniff out the truth. The next day, the lawyer was found floating off the coast near the pier. He had been beaten to death and dumped in the water. No one from Sam’s old firm would take the appeal case.

Dean let go of his apartment and sold everything but the handful of clothes that fit in his backpack. He sold Sam’s condo and finally, sold Baby. Sam’s new lawyer required double his usual fee just to take the case. The half a dozen private detectives he hired also required double and triple fees, hazard pay they’d called it. Every single one ended up quitting (or disappearing) abruptly without ever finding anything. There was nothing left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

_37 days._

Application to Overturn the Verdict: DENIED.

 

_45 days._

Automatic State Appeal: CONVICTION UPHELD

 

_102 days._

Petition for Certiorari: HEARING DENIED, NO MERIT FOUND

 

_276 days._

Writ of Habeas Corpus: DENIED

 

_281 days._

Execution date set for January 24th, 343 days from the day Jessica’s body was found. Less than one year. In 62 days, Dean would be alone. Sam would be gone.


	2. 296 Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one.

_47 days left._

“I’ve heard all this before Sam! You’ve told me; your dead lawyer told me; all the missing private detectives I hired told me…! I don’t know what else you expect me to do about it.”

“It’s just…” Sam sighed, “capital trials are NEVER that fast and even if they were, the jury NEVER comes back unanimous. NEVER! There’s always at least one that votes against the death penalty on principle.”

“I know but – “

“They were bought Dean! The judge, the jury, the police, everyone was bought. It’s the only way this could have happened.”

“Sammy – “

Sam was shaking now; on the verge of crying. He looked pale and drawn. He’d lost weight. At least his face looked a little better today. Last time Dean had visited, Sam had had a split lip and a bruised chin and was favoring his left side. Dean suspected broken ribs.

“I didn’t do it Dean. You have to believe me. I was set up!”

Sam was frantic now and mumbling under his breath about yellow eyes and someone called Walker. His eyes were glassy and wild, and Dean was half expecting him to start trying to rip his hair out.

“Shhhh,” Dean soothed, “I do believe you Sammy. Of course I do. I just don’t know what to do anymore. There’s no more money and no more appeals. I even tried talking the guards into taking me in your place, but they wouldn’t go for it.”

“I don’t know either Dean; there has to be something!” Sam was losing it now. “I’ll make a deal with the Devil or the Russian Mob or something. That always works in the movies so there must be some truth to it right?”

“Be reasonable Sam – We’re Winchesters, the Devil is already gonna be waiting for both of us, so you know he won’t deal, and I have no idea how to get a hold of the mob people…” Dean trailed off, “Maybe – “

“Dean! The mob people, really!? I was kidding; it’s just…yeah. I’m scared.”

“I know Sammy. Me too, but I’m on it. Don’t give up.”


	3. 311 days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied about the posting schedule. Personally, I hate waiting for Chapter updates so I'm just gonna post as I refine and if that means you get multiple postings in a day then ok.
> 
> Still un-beta'd. Still not a native Russian speaker. Translations at the end.

_32 days left._

 

Dean was really starting to panic now.  One month. That was all Sam had left. Dean was out of options.  Money had run out weeks ago and Dean had already been to every bank and loan shark in the city.  No one wanted to help the brother of a murderer. No one would even see him. The garage he was working at had cut his hours and didn’t let him speak to customers anymore.  It was only a matter of time before they kicked him to the curb too. Dean figured the only reason they hadn’t yet was because it tended to get busy around the holidays and they needed the extra help.  Come the new year though, he’d be out on his ass.

He’d already picked up some old habits.  Pickpocketing at Christmastime made him feel like the worst kind of asshole, but he needed to eat.  He’d tried hustling pool a few days ago but one of the guys had recognized him as Sam’s brother and had tried to beat the crap out of him on principle.  It was a good thing Dean knew how to throw a punch.

Soon, he was going to have to start stealing food from the grocery stores like he had when Sam was little and hungry.  He was just hoping he wouldn’t have to pick up any of the other ‘back alley’ tactics he’d used in his younger years for quick cash.  In 32 days, he’d know. He only had to hold on that long. If Dean couldn’t save him and Sam was executed, it wouldn’t matter anymore.  Without his brother alive in this world, Dean didn’t need to be here either. It was really that simple.

He’d decided to work on the mob angle a few days ago when the last loan shark had turned him down.  He’d even asked the guy if he knew where to look for any mobsters. Azazel had laughed him out of his office and told him to “Fuck off with that shit.” Thinking about it later, Dean realized that he’d probably sounded like an idiot asking for ‘mobsters’.

He was screwed if he didn’t come up with a solution quick.  Him and Sam both. After years of fighting tooth and nail to survive on the street and take care of his younger brother, he’d was failing.  Sam was going to be executed by the state of California for a murder he was railroaded for. There was no way Sammy had hurt Jessica. He was sure of it.  He loved her and they were set to get married just a few months after her murder. He had no idea why anyone would want to frame his baby brother for the murder, but it didn’t matter now. The only thing that mattered was stopping the execution and saving Sam’s life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean was exhausted.  He had been walking for hours.  His feet were killing him, and he was sweating through his layers even though it was only 55° outside.  He had been to every Italian and Chinese restaurant and every strip club in the city. He’d also accosted a few little old ladies in dry cleaners along the way asking for ‘the boss’ _wink wink._

He had no idea what the hell he was doing.  In the movies, the good guy just had to saunter into a restaurant and he’d find his mark at a table in the back having lunch and being menacing.  Clearly, that was not real life. A little bit of research told him that the Russian Mob was the biggest mob in the area, but there were no Russian restaurants for him to stalk.  That was why he started harassing Dry Cleaners in the first place before giving up and looking for Italians or Chinese. Anyone would do at this point. Ideally, Dean would find American mob people…mob people…was that right?  Mobsters sounded so childish, but gangsters didn’t seem right either. Whatever, if he could find Americans, he wouldn’t have to learn a new language or anything, but he didn’t think any of the fast food places were harboring the people he was looking for.

Maybe all the mobsters had plans for Christmas and were out of town.  Maybe the creep at the loan place had told them he was looking for them, so they were hiding.  Maybe the police had closed in and they’d all gone to ground or gotten arrested. Maybe Dean was desperate and tired and losing his mind. Maybe he should take a break.  It was already 5:30 and he’d been out making rounds since 9 o’clock that morning. Thankfully, he was coming up on what used to be his favorite coffee shop. Gabriel, the owner, was one of the few people in town who would still serve Dean without a problem.  If he was lucky, he might have just enough change for a small black coffee.

Dean sighed as he lumbered through the door of the coffee shop.  He loved this place. It was cozy and warm and always smelled like pastries and good coffee.  Gabriel wasn’t working but the girl at the counter either didn’t recognize him or didn’t care who he was because she served him with only a small eye-roll when he paid in quarters and dimes.

After a few minutes of relaxing with his coffee, the after-work rush started, and the coffee shop filled up.  Not wanting to risk a confrontation with anyone, he made his way out. It was fully dark now and the street lights were blazing.  There was no use looking anymore tonight. He risked causing a scene if he went into any crowded restaurants or bars and he really couldn’t handle that right now.

Walking home, he kept his head down.  He couldn’t chance being recognized. The media storm of the trial had ended over a month ago, but Dean was still the worst kind of celebrity and he got recognized more often than not.  Most people just glared at him and crossed the street but occasionally someone would hurl insults or rocks and a couple of times, he’d been jumped. He got good at keeping his head down and keeping track of where he was by the look of sidewalk and the sounds of the neighborhood.

He was almost there when he heard it.  Across the street there were two men smoking and joking loudly in Russian outside of a terrible Greek restaurant.  Dean had eaten there once and gotten food poisoning. He was surprised the place was still open since there never really seemed to be anyone in there.  Now though, there appeared to be a large group of people taking up the tables and at least a few of them were speaking what he thought sounded like Russian.  (Honestly, it could have been Ukrainian or German or any language other than Spanish. Dean had no idea.)

There was a good chance Dean was going to get his ass kicked walking in there, but he had to try.  He sprinted across the street and slipped through the door behind the two men who had just been outside. He had been hoping to be able to make his way around the group quietly until he could figure out who was in charge, but that plan went out the window as soon as the two men realized someone else had followed them in. The whole room went deadly silent as everyone turned to look at him.

From off to his left came, “Привет, Дин.”

The man looked young.  Dean figured he couldn’t be much older than his own 32 years.  His voice was deeper than Dean would have expected, and his dark hair looked like he’d been running his fingers through it.  He was dressed in a dark blue suit and appeared to have his tie on backwards. Sitting down, he really didn’t look like much more than an accountant or salesman but he was obviously someone important to the other men in the room.

“Um…”

“My name is Dimitri Krushnic.  I heard you might be looking for me.” Dean could barely detect a hint of an accent in his speech, but his name sounded Russian.  The guy, Dimitri, wasn’t really giving Dean anything to work with though.

“Um…” _Really eloquent Dean.  Get it together. This might be your only chance._

“Sam Winchester, lawyer, Stanford graduate, murdered fiancée, death row…”

“Yes! I mean, um, yes, I am.  How did you…?”

“Marta.”

“What?”

“Sunshine Cleaners.”

“Fucking dry cleaners…” Dean mumbled. “Look, Mr. Krishnik – “

“Krushnic.”

“What?”

“Dimitri Krushnic, not Krishnik.  I’m growing tired of this conversation.”

“No, no ok! I was looking for you, or your father maybe?  Whoever’s in charge really.” Dean said as he made his way to Dimitri’s table. “I’m out of options and out money and Sam’s out of appeals.” Dean was rambling now. “He’s convinced he was framed by a dirty police officer and he’s running out of time and I’ll do anything you want if you can help my brother and – “

“What police?” Krushnic cut in

“What?”

“What police is meant to be framing him?”

“Um…someone called Walker?  Gordon Walker maybe? The one who testified at his trial.  He also has some crazy ideas about judges and juries being paid off and I don’t even know what else.” Dean said as he reached the table. “I don’t know about any of that but – “

“Don’t sit.” Krushnic said sharply. “Why are his ideas crazy?”

Dean was thrown by the command not to sit so he just kind of hovered before tumbling out, “I don’t know.  This isn’t a movie. People don’t just pay off judges and juries and cops in real life, ya know?” It came out like a question. “He also kept ranting about yellow eyes, and I don’t even know what else.  He’s losing it and I have to help him! Please, I mean -”

“достаточно! If you think he’s going crazy, then why are you here?”

“He’s my little brother.” Dean said like it was obvious. “It’s my job to protect him and failing that, bail his ass out of jail.  He was always the good one. Never got in trouble in his life.” Dean sighed. “We’re past bail now; past lawyers and appeals, past following the rules even.  He says there’s evidence being hidden, and I believe him because he’s my brother and if I have to get into bed with the mob to prove it then I will.”

“Will you be bedding all of us then or just ‘whoever’s in charge’?” Krushnic smirked.

“What?”

“I didn’t realize you were offering sex; I’d rather thought something a bit bloodier, though, now that you mention it, I may take payment out of your ass just for the inconvenience of ruining my dinner.”

“Uh…” Dean floundered.

Krushnic sighed, “Уходи сейчас же. Give Frank your details.” he said dismissively as he waved his hand.

“Wait! What about my brother?” Dean yelled as he was bundled out the front door by a huge no-necked goon he assumed must be Frank.  As soon as they were outside, his assailant released his arm and stared him down without ever uttering a single word. He watched silently as Dean raged in the street, tears burning his eyes.  He glared at the goon, punched the plexiglass wall of the bus enclosure and stormed off down the street. Frank watched him the whole way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His hand hurt and he was officially out of ideas and out of hope.  Dimitri had been his last chance and now Sam was gonna die because Dean had failed. The bottle of cheap whiskey he’d picked up on the way back to his squalid mattress was taunting him.  He was no better than his Dad. A drunk who failed to protect his family.

32 more days and it wouldn’t matter anymore anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Привет, Дин – Hello Dean  
> Достаточно - Enough  
> Уходи сейчас же - Leave now
> 
> Come yell at me on Tumblr. I'm readerwriterme there too. Fair warning - I'm marked explicit because Fuck Tumblr.


	4. 316 days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Warning for brief mention of gang rape. No actual rape takes place.

_27 days left._

 

He didn’t remember passing out.  Actually, he didn’t remember much of the last few days.  He’d worked and drank and visited Sam at the prison and drank and gotten fired and drank some more.  It was a blur and it was exactly how Dean was planning on spending the next 27 days. At least his asshole boss at the garage had given him an extra week’s pay to leave without a scene.   _‘Like he would have made a scene anyway, Dean thought, why bother?’_ The extra cash would keep him in whiskey and ramen noodles for a few more days at least.  Not all 27, of course, but he didn’t need to eat towards the end anyway. It’d be a waste.

No, he didn’t remember passing out but he sure as hell wasn’t expecting to be rudely awakened by a huge man dumping him off his sad little mattress and onto the cold, dirty cement floor.

“What the fuck!”

“You are not good at following instructions.  You were told to give your information to Frank.  You did not.”

That voice sounded vaguely familiar to his alcohol-hazed brain.

“What?”

“I don’t like having to hunt for people; especially ones that owe me.”

“Mr. Krushnic?” Dean’s head was pounding and his stomach rolling from the sour alcohol still sloshing around in it. “Just a minute,” Dean croaked before turning around and throwing up against the wall.  He was so weak and shaky he had to kneel on the freezing cement and prop himself against the wall to keep from falling into his own vomit. “I owe you something?”

“You interrupted my dinner, then offered to fuck me, all of us actually, then screamed at me and caused trouble for Frank.”

The goon Dean assumed was Frank just stared at him with a blank expression.

“What?”  Dean couldn’t think; his head was swimming and his stomach still protesting.  His knees were sure to be screaming at him later due to all the kneeling on the hard ground.

“Пойдемте, муж мой.”

Dean almost puked again when Frank yanked him to his feet and dragged him out the door.  The sunlight was blinding and shot pain through Dean’s retinas causing his headache to explode.  He bent over and threw up again in the street.

He heard a ‘tsk’ from in front of him and when he looked up from the sick-spattered ground he saw Mr. Krushnic staring at him in disapproval while speaking on the phone.

“Уберите все виски в запертый шкаф в моем кабинете. Бурбон и скотч тоже.” To Dean he said, “Get in.”

This was it.  He was dead. All those years of living on the streets and doing what had to be done to take care of Sam and he was going to get gang-raped, murdered and dumped in the ocean somewhere while Sam rotted away in prison completely alone for his last 27 days for a murder he didn’t commit.  He would never even know what happened.

Dean hesitated but before he could open his mouth to protest, he was forced into the back of a waiting SUV, Krushnic next to him and Frank in the front passenger seat.  A dark-haired woman was driving but she never turned around to look at Dean.

“Пойдем.”

“It’s a little cliché isn’t it.  The black SUV, tinted windows, silent driver, commands in a language I can’t understand…” Dean said, grasping for anything to relieve some tension.  Humor was good. Humor always worked right?

“Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you Муж.” Krushnic deadpanned, “You did search every restaurant and strip club in town looking for ‘mobsters’ after all.” It was almost cute the way Krushnic used air quotes when he said ‘mobsters’.  Almost.

The conversation then switched to full Russian and Dean couldn’t get another word in.  He was still shaky from the whiskey, but he was also scared shitless. He couldn’t even order his thoughts properly.

_Fuck. I’m going to die. This is it. What about Sammy?  Shit, Sammy! Fuck! Maybe they won’t kill me right away. Yeah, right Dean. Poor Sammy. I have to get to Sammy._

“Stop thinking so loud Муж. We are here. идти теперь.”

Dean paled but managed to get his feet under him.  No need to piss off the guy in charge by dawdling. He didn’t need to know what he was saying to understand an order when he heard one.

When he finally managed to climb down from the SUV and look around, he was surprised.  He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting but Rosie’s Diner wasn’t it.

They were immediately seated in a booth against the back wall.  Krushnic’s two goons taking up the booth next to them. Krushnic chose the seat facing the door but otherwise seemed at ease.  To say the silence was making Dean uncomfortable would be an understatement. Once the waitress had taken their orders and walked away, Krushnic just stared at Dean.  It was unnerving. It was like the guy was trying to read his mind or see into his soul or something.

Dean took a moment to stare back at his captor.  Had he not been so off kilter, he might have been able to admit that the man was gorgeous.  His hair was a dark brown and it looked like it had never seen a brush. His eyes were a striking shade of deep blue that Dean would have found mesmerizing had they not been so cold.  He was wearing a black suit today and his tie was still backwards. He still looked a bit like a scrawny office worker and Dean briefly entertained the idea that this was some type of joke, or that he was already dead and the Devil was toying with him.

“Uh…” Dean said. “What’s going on right now?”

“Breakfast.”

“Ok…? But, like…why?”

“Because you are hungover, and I am hungry.”

Dean didn’t know what to say to that bare statement of facts, so he sat quietly and tried to ignore Krushnic’s staring.  Luckily, the food came quickly, and their meals were finished in complete silence. Not even the bodyguards in the next booth were speaking.

By the time the waitress had cleared their plates and refilled their coffees, Dean was feeling almost human again. As she walked away, Krushnic finally spoke.

“I have an offer for you.”

“What?” Dean said, startled.

“для трахает ради.  Is that all you say?” Krushnic said unkindly.

“Uh…listen, Mr. Krushnic…”

“You may call me Dimitri or Castiel.”

“Castiel?”

“My given name is Dimitri Castiel Mikhailov-Krushnic. I have an offer you will not refuse.”

“You mean I can’t refuse because you’ll kill me or something.” Dean said it as a statement because there was no way there was any question in Castiel’s intent.

“You watch too many movies Муж.” Castiel smirked. “You may refuse if you would like to but you won’t.”

“Why won’t I?”

“Because you love your brother.” Castiel said simply.

All the color Dean had gained back from breakfast drained from his face and he felt sick again. “Sammy,” he choked.

“I looked into your ramblings from last week Dean and – “

“Why?” Dean interrupted sharply. “Why would you do that?”

“I have my reasons,” Castiel replied coldly.  Dean swallowed hard but Castiel continued, “I will help your brother, but I have stipulations.”

“Anything you want.” Dean interjected quickly.

“I do not appreciate these constant interruptions Муж.” Castiel said as he stared Dean down. “As it turns out, I am in danger of being deported since my Visa is due to expire.  Now, it would be simple for me to create fake papers, pay some people, and be done with this nonsense, but your offer seemed like so much more fun. Two birds as they say.” Castiel paused; Dean didn’t dare speak.

“хороший мальчик. You will marry me and I will become an American citizen.  You will warm my bed at night in every way a husband is expected to. You will belong to me alone.  No one else will ever touch you again. You will live in my house and do as I say without argument. In return, I will have all the charges against Sam dropped, his license reinstated without penalty and take care of the corrupt police officers and judges.”

Castiel could see Dean struggling to hold his words back and so he said, “You may speak.”

“You can do that?” Dean blurted

“Yes.” Said Castiel simply

Dean looked at him skeptically for a minute and said, “I sell you my soul and my brother walks free, gets to be a lawyer again, and you get rid of the dirty cops that framed him? How?”

“That is not your problem.”

“Will I still get to see Sammy after he’s free?”

“If he so chooses.  I would not keep you from the only family you have left.”

“How did you…?”

“All household rules will still apply during visits with your brother of course.”

“What are the rules?”

“Do we have an agreement?”

It was obvious from the growing impatience in Castiel’s face that Dean wasn’t going to get any more answers until he signed his life away, literally.

“Yes, deal.” _Like there was ever another choice_

Castiel picked up his phone, looked Dean dead in the eyes and said, “Ruby, приступать.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Пойдемте, муж мой – Come along now husband
> 
> Уберите все виски в запертый шкаф в моем кабинете. Бурбон и скотч тоже - Remove all  
> the whiskey to the locked cabinet in my office. The bourbon and Scotch too.
> 
> Пойдем – Let’s go
> 
> Муж – Husband
> 
> идти теперь – Come along now
> 
> для трахает ради – For fuck’s sake
> 
> хороший мальчик – Good boy
> 
> приступать - proceed


	5. 316 + 1 Days

Most of the rest of the day was a blur.  As soon as Dean heard Castiel give what he assumed was the order to help Sam he became a marionette with his strings cut.  He slumped back in his seat and released a breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding. His relief was palpable.

 

Castiel spoke on the phone for another few seconds but as soon as he hung up, Dean was ushered back into the waiting SUV.  He vaguely remembers riding in silence before arriving at a large house, having a tour and being told to shower and nap. Lying in the soft bed, Dean realizes that he must have showered because his skin was warm and his hair was damp, though he had almost no memory of doing it. Finally, exhaustion won out and he fell into a deep sleep even though it was still early in the day.

 

Hours or days later, Dean was jerked awake by a shrill sound that he finally realized was coming from an alarm someone had set. When he eventually managed to locate and turn off the awful thing, he looked around and realized the sun had already set outside the picture windows and it was almost fully dark.  Something in the back of his mind reminded him that he was required for dinner at 6:30. He jumped up when he realized he only had 20 minutes to get dressed and find the dining room.

 

He managed to find a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt in a dresser in the bedroom (because who knows what had happened to his clothes), but when he finally made his way downstairs, he realized he had no idea where the dining room was.  Eventually, he followed the sound of voices until he reached what he assumed was Castiel’s office. The door was open, so Dean leaned around the frame intending to knock but stopped short when he saw who was speaking.

 

“Sammy?” Dean breathed

 

Both men turned at the interruption and Dean rushed into the room and wrapped his brother in a crushing hug.

 

“You’re here.” Dean could hardly believe it. “Are you ok? Let me look at you.”

 

Sam was dressed in the same suit he’d been arrested in 316 days ago.  He was rumpled and had a black eye and a fat lip but otherwise looked ok.

 

“I’m ok Dean.” Sam whispered as he wrapped his brother in another hug. “I can’t believe you actually asked the mob for help.”

 

“I had to save you.” Dean whispered back with tears in his eyes.

 

“Shall we have dinner?” Castiel asked from somewhere behind them.

 

Dean untangled himself from Sam’s embrace and rushed over to Castiel to wrap him in a huge hug as well.  _ His fiancée now, wow what the fuck, ok. _ “Thank you,” Dean sniffed, “so much.”

 

Castiel stiffened when Dean hugged him and immediately placed his hands on his shoulders to gently but firmly push him away.

 

“Do not thank me.  We have an agreement.  I am simply keeping up my end.”

 

“Right. Of course. Sorry.”

 

“Dinner then? This way.”

 

The brothers shared a look but followed Castiel out of the office and into the dining room.  Dinner was a subdued affair with only the sound of cutlery on plates to break the silence. When it was finished, Sam was shown to a guest room on the main floor and Dean was led back to the master bedroom.

 

As soon as the door was closed, Castiel spoke. “As I said earlier, this is the master bedroom.  Moving forward, we will share this room. You are expected to sleep nude. Tomorrow we go shopping for new clothes for you.  Set your alarm for 6 am. For now, it is time to sleep.”

 

_ Ok,  _ Dean thought, _ this isn’t so bad.  The bed comfortable and I’ve never had a problem with nudity.  _

 

He’s nervous as he sets his alarm and plugs in his phone.  He knows he looks good, so he’s not worried about the naked part, but he hasn’t been with a man in years.  Maybe Castiel would be kind. As he turns from the nightstand, he notices that Castiel hasn’t moved away from the door.  He’s just standing on the opposite side of the room staring…again.

 

_ Ok, showtime I guess. _

 

Dean started slowly stripping off his t-shirt.  He wasn’t really going for a slow, sexy striptease or anything – more just trying to keep Castiel from noticing his shaking hands – but that’s kind of how it turned out.  Too soon he was down to just his boxer shorts so he took a deep breath and pushed them down his legs. It was weird standing in front of someone completely naked and soft and scared to death.  Castiel, of course, just continued to stare. It was unsettling and Dean really wasn’t sure what to do next. He stood still for a minute, letting Castiel’s gaze weigh on him and awaiting instructions or something before losing his nerve and slipping under the bed covers.

 

Castiel was quiet, too quiet.  As far as Dean could tell, he hadn’t even moved from his post by the door. Maybe he was changing his mind about this whole marriage and citizenship thing.  Maybe he decided he didn’t like what he saw and was trying to figure out how to kill both Dean and Sam without getting blood on the good linens. Or maybe he was just trying to decide if he would need to tie Dean down to fuck him or if he’d submit quietly.

 

Dean was too afraid to look, and he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to speak so he lay quietly and inspected every inch of the darkened ceiling above him.

 

After what felt like hours, Dean heard the shower turn on and he allowed himself a full breath for the first time since he’d entered the room. Surprisingly, Dean had managed to doze off a bit when he heard the shower cut off.  He was suddenly more awake than he’d been all day. Now he just had to wait for Castiel to come and take what was owed. What Dean had promised him.

 

_ Ok Dean, deep breaths.  It’s gonna be fine. Cas seems ok. Cas? Where did that come from? Don’t give the mobster a nickname Dean. Seriously, priorities. Just breathe. _

 

“Stop thinking so loud муж.”

 

“Jeez Cas!” Dean yelped, “What the hell? We gotta get you a bell or something.” How had Dean not heard or felt Castiel climbing into bed.  He really needed to start paying better attention.

 

“Cas?”

 

“Uh…”

 

“You may call me Dimitri or Castiel. Not Cas.”

 

“Sorry, it just kind of slipped out.” Dean said, “Not fond of nicknames?”

 

“Sleep now муж.” Castiel said around a yawn as he rolled away from Dean.

 

Dean can’t say he wasn’t relieved by that command.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Муж - husband
> 
> Does anyone want Cas' POV too? I have it written (more-or-less) but I don't know if I should post it...


	6. 316 + 2 days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the posting delay. Sometimes I suck at life a little.
> 
> Some of you may notice that I have made this a series. I am going to write the whole thing over from Castiel's POV in the second part (rather than try to fit it in right now).

Dean had never slept better in his life.  Even the god-awful early hour of his alarm didn’t phase him.  Surprisingly (or maybe not surprisingly, Dean had no idea), Castiel was already awake and gone from bed.  The sheets on his side were cold and barley rumpled. What the hell was the dude doing up so early? The sun wasn’t even up yet for fucks sake!

 

Might as well get this show on the road Dean supposed.  If he was going to be stuck spending the entire day at the mall, he was gonna need a decent breakfast and about a gallon of coffee.  Rolling out of bed, he noticed that someone, probably Castiel, had put a stack of clothes under his phone for him to find. One pair of soft blue jeans, a fitted black V-neck t-shirt and the smallest, tightest, and silkiest pair of boxer briefs known to man later, Dean was presentable.  Making his way into the master bathroom, he discovered that one side of the double vanity had been partially set up for him with a razor, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, hair gel and a comb.

 

“This might work out ok.” Dean murmured to himself. “So long as Cas – no, Castiel - lets me get a few vintage band tees and different hair gel that doesn’t smell like flowers.”

 

If Dean took a little extra time on his appearance today that was nobody’s business but his own.  He was engaged to a mob boss (or an accountant maybe?) so he probably should try to look the part.

 

By 6:30 Dean was presentable and making his way downstairs.  Maybe he could stretch his cooking muscles in the kitchen and make breakfast for Castiel and Sam.  He could prove he wasn’t completely useless.

 

“Доброе утро, сэр!” came a voice from the stove as Dean found the kitchen.

 

“Uh…”

 

“Меня зовут Самандриэль. Я веду домашнее хозяйство.” said the young man while holding his hand out.

 

“I’m sorry but I don’t speak Russian.” Dean replied, shaking the other man’s hand.

 

“I apologize.” It came out heavily accented. “I am called Samandriel.  I run the house.”

 

“Run the house? What does that mean?”

 

“I cook, clean, I do when people bring the things…um?”

 

“Deliveries?”

 

“Yes! I also help you if you need me for things.”

 

“Aren’t you a little young?”

 

“Нет. No. You are safe with me, do not worry.”

 

“Самандриэль, пожалуйста, вернитесь к своим обязанностям. Я жду завтрак через тридцать минут.”

 

Castiel’s voice made Dean jump and turn around.  He hadn’t even heard him come into the kitchen.

 

“Dean, I see you found your clothes for today, excellent.  Please come with me.”

 

Dean turned to follow Castiel into the dining room but not before turning back and saying, “Nice to meet you Samandriel.” He did have  _ some _ manners after all.

 

Sam was already seated at the table, surrounded by several people in suits. Oddly enough, he looked perfectly comfortable in his little pow wow of people who were probably killers.   _ ‘Fake it ‘til you make it, I guess,’ Dean thought. _

 

“Hiya Sammy. Making friends?” Dean smirked.  He still couldn’t quite believe Sam was sitting here with him. He had never been more grateful for anything in his life.

 

“Dean!” Sam hissed, and Dean had the good sense to look a little abashed.

 

“Dean,” Castiel started, “please sit.” He indicated the seat to his right. “Представить себя.” He said to the mob squad around the table.

 

The dark-haired woman to Castiel’s left started speaking in rapid Russian until Castiel cut her off. “Нет. In English.”

 

When she spoke again, she didn’t have even a hint of an accent. “My name is Meg Masters.  I am Mr. Krushnic’s Personal Advisor and Assistant and I don’t work for you.” The look she shot Dean at the end of her ‘introduction’ let him know that they would probably not be making friends anytime soon.

 

“Um…ok. Nice to meet you Meg.” Dean forced a half smile.  These were Castiel’s people and based on the look on his face, he was quite fond of Meg.  Dean really needed to make nice. He also felt like he needed to keep a bit of an eye on her.  She was pretty with her long dark hair and smirk. Dean wondered if they’d ever had a sexual relationship and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

 

Meg obviously knew his smile was forced but took the gesture for what it was and inclined her head in acknowledgement of it.

 

An older, balding man sneered at Dean and spoke next.  Dean could smell his breath from across the table and hated him instantly. “Zachariah.”  _ Again, no accent. _ “Raph and I have the unfortunate luck of being your babysitters.” He said as he gestured to the man next to him.

 

What followed Zachariah’s pronouncement was a volley of Russian so fast it didn’t even sound like words.  Just random sounds. Sam looked absolutely fascinated, the nerd. By the time Dean clued back in, Zachariah looked appropriately scolded and Castiel furious.

 

“I am Raphael. Do not call me Raph. I am another of your companions.” Raphael was a large black man who filled out his suit impeccably.  He was sitting ramrod straight in his chair and had a military air about him. He looked like he lived for following orders. He made Dean uneasy but didn’t incite instant hatred the way Zachariah had.

 

“Companions?” Dean asked. “Is that like bodyguards?”

 

“If you choose to see it as such.”

 

“Is that really necessary?”

 

“Yes.” Said Raphael; his tone brokered no argument.

 

“Ok, well, nice to meet you then Raphael, Zach.”

 

“Ruby?” Castiel prompted

 

“Wait! Ruby?  Like the Ruby from the phone?” Dean was excited now.  This was someone who had a direct hand in getting Sammy out.

 

“Ruby from the phone?” she scoffed. “Really?”

 

“Ruby…” Castiel growled

 

“Fine. My name is Ruby Morgenstern.  I  _ am _ the lawyer who sprung your brother and I am the one who will be showing him the ropes at the firm.” She looked exceedingly happy about that and turned to continue making heart eyes at the side of Sam’s head.   _ ‘He’s going to have his hands full with that one,’ Dean thought. _

 

“And you’ve already met Frank. He is my bodyguard, as you say” Castiel said.

 

Dean heard a grunt from the corner of the doorway he’d just walked through.  What was it with these guys? Did they all move this quietly. Maybe they were really spies like 007 or something. They all needed bells around their necks or Dean was going to end up having a heart attack.

 

After the introductions were done, conversation was stilted.  Dean had so many questions, but he wasn’t sure what he could talk about in front of other people.  Frank obviously knew what was going on but what about everyone else? He didn’t really want everyone to know that he’d basically sold himself to Castiel as his personal whore in exchange for Sam’s freedom? Nope. Definitely not.

 

Breakfast was served to a silent room and eventually the group broke up.  Dean, Sam, Castiel and Frank climbed in to the mob-special SUV that Dean had ridden in the previous day while Ruby, Meg, Zachariah and Raphael left to do whatever they normally do on a Friday morning.

 

Stillness seemed to be the theme for the day and the drive downtown was so uncomfortably quiet that Dean was almost afraid to even breathe.  He kept stealing glances at his brother in the backseat beside him. He looked tired and thin but alive. It was still sinking in that Sam was here and not in prison anymore.  Dean could stop counting down the days to end of the Winchesters. He desperately wanted to talk to Sam about what had happened but when he finally turned to Sam, he was silenced with a barely perceptible shake of the head and a glance to the front seat.  It looked like Sam was just as uncomfortable in the quiet as him.

 

After about an hour, the SUV pulled up in front of an apartment complex and everyone got out.  As they made their way inside, Castiel finally spoke.

 

“Sam, as you know, your old condo was sold to cover legal fees.” Castiel glanced at Dean who looked down, “I have purchased this apartment and you will rent it from me until such time that you have paid for it in full.  Following that, you will be free to move wherever you prefer.”

 

“Mr. Krushnic, I – “

 

“There is a security guard on duty 24 hours a day and everyone not on the approved list will be required to stop at the desk before being allowed up.” Castiel continued as if he’d never been interrupted. “I have already placed Dean on your approved list, along with myself, of course.  We will all have access cards that allow us entry to the underground parking structure and elevators.”

 

“Thank you.” Sam said quietly.

 

After having their IDs scanned and pictures taken, they headed up to Sam’s new apartment.  It was massive, taking up half of the top floor of the building. It was furnished beautifully in light woods and soft colors. 

 

“Holy shit!”

 

“Dean!” Sam scolded. “Close your mouth, your drooling.”

 

“Can you blame me dude?  This place is awesome!”

 

“I’m glad you approve Муж.   Sam, is this acceptable to you as well?”

 

“Yes, Mr. Krushnic, this is amazing!  It’s too much, really. I can’t accept this place. I’ll never be able to afford it.”

 

“Do not worry about that Sam. My brother-in-law must be comfortable and safe.  You will be both of those things here. We will decide on payments later.”

 

“Brother-in law? Uh...Dean?”

 

“Um…”

 

“You did not tell him Муж?” Was that disappointment or anger in his face.  Dean was really going to have to learn to read him, quickly.

 

“I haven’t really had much chance to talk to him yet.”

 

“Of course. You may speak now.  I will wait in the car. Don’t be too long.”

 

As soon as the door closed behind Castiel, Sam rounded on Dean.  “What the hell!”

 

“Surprise?” Dean sighed. Sam looked unimpressed. “Look, I didn’t have a choice ok? It was marry him so he could be a citizen without having to pay for fake papers or something or leave you rotting in jail.  What was I supposed to do? This was technically your idea, remember?”

 

“Dude, I meant offer to help him with, like, street stuff or sleep with him a few times, not marry him!”

 

“ _ Street stuff _ Sam? So, drugs, violence or whoring myself?  That was your plan?”

 

“I don’t – I don’t know Dean.  I wasn’t thinking straight. I just – “

 

“Look, I’ll be fine.” Dean was pissed now. What the hell was wrong with Sam right now?  “I offered to whore myself to him  _ sort of _ and he came up with this marriage thing.  I’m still a whore, I’ll just be an honest one.”

 

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

 

“It doesn’t really matter now.  It’s done.” Dean rubbed his face. “I have to get downstairs before he comes looking for me.  Enjoy your new digs.”

 

“Yeah, thanks.”

 

Dean pulled Sam into a huge hug and Sam was quick to wrap his arms around the smaller man. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

 

“I’ll call you tomorrow. Have fun shopping” Sam said as Dean pulled away and flipped him off.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Ready Муж?” Castiel said as Dean climbed into the SUV.  He had moved to the backseat and was looking at Dean like he was worried about him making a run for it.

 

“Yeah. Thanks for Sam’s apartment.  It’s really nice.”

 

“It’s nothing.”

 

It was quiet again as the SUV made its way further into downtown.  The silence was killing Dean.

 

“What’s that mean?”

 

“What?”

 

“That name you keep calling me. Moosh or Mush, or however you say it?”

 

“Муж? It means husband.”

 

“But…you’ve been calling me that for days.  Before I even agreed to your deal.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I don’t – “

 

“Would you prefer любовник or дорогая or perhaps, любимая?”

 

“I don’t know what any of those words mean.”

 

“Then it really doesn’t matter does it?”

 

“I guess not.  I could learn?”

 

“That is not necessary.  Everyone you encounter will speak to you in English.”

 

“Oh, well it might be nice to learn anyway.”

 

“I said no.”

 

Silence again.  Dean stared out the passenger side window; Castiel stared at his phone.

 

The SUV came to a stop on a street that was far to clean and shiny for Dean to have ever been down. Looks like the shopping part of this nightmare was beginning.

 

“This is the main shopping area in the city.” Castiel explained. “I have credit accounts set up at almost all of these shops.  You may come as often as you’d like and spend as much as you’d like on whatever you need. I will be notified if you spend more than $25,000 at any one store, however, though please don’t be discouraged from doing so if you need to.”

 

Dean stopped short. “How much? That’s a lot of money. I don’t think – “

 

“$25,000 per store.  Come.”

 

The first store they visited was a vintage hodge-podge store and Dean actually got really excited when he saw the old vinyl lining the shelves.

 

“I don’t usually shop here, but I thought you might like to, so I set up an account.” Castiel said as Dean looked around.

 

“This is awesome!”

 

They spent hours in just the one store buying what must have been thousands of dollars in real vintage band tees, an old leather jacket, a record player and dozens of Dean’s favorite records.  Dean is pretty sure he rambled on and on about the merits of Led Zeppelin vs. AC/DC vs. Metallica and cassette tapes versus CDs, but he couldn’t really remember. Castiel never interrupted him so either he wasn’t too annoying or Castiel wasn’t listening.  Dean would bet on the latter.

 

When they finished in the Vintage shop, it was time for lunch.  They managed to find a little Italian restaurant tucked between Hugo Boss and a bookstore.  As soon as they entered, it was obvious that the staff knew Castiel here and they were immediately led to a small table in the back.

 

By the time their orders were placed Dean was barely containing himself trying to keep his face neutral. Castiel seemed to prefer the silence, but he had questions damnit! He needed some answers.  Now he just had to figure out how to ask.

 

“What is it Dean?”

 

“Uh – how did you know I – “

 

“You’re practically vibrating in your seat.  Go ahead and ask.”

 

“What do you do? For your job, I mean?”

 

Castiel smirked, “You came looking for mobsters, didn’t you?  You don’t know what I do?”

 

“Uh, well, no offense or anything but you sort of look like a CPA or a door-to-door salesman.  I mean your tie isn’t even on right. I mean – it’s just not what I would picture a mob boss wearing, ya know? Wait, are you the  _ boss _ boss or just like the boss of some people?”

 

“I think you watch too many movies Муж.” Castiel laughed quietly. “I am the Chief Financial Officer of Milton & Novak Holdings. My outfit, including my tie, is strategic. And, yes, I am the Пахан of my  _ other _ organization.”

 

“Uh – Pa - what?”

 

“Пахан.  Boss, or  _ boss _ boss, if you prefer.”

 

“You seem very young to be in charge of all that.”  _ Jesus Dean! Think before you speak! _

 

“I am 35 years old, and I recently took over for my father.”

 

“How recently?  What happened?”

 

“Almost a year ago now.”

 

It didn’t escape Dean’s notice that his other question went unanswered, but he wasn’t going to push. “Chief Financial Officer, huh?  That’s like a fancy accountant that’s in charge of all the other accountants, right?”

 

“Something like that, yes.”

 

“Why is your tie strategic?”

 

“Tell me about yourself Dean.”

 

“Well, I don’t know what I can tell you that you didn’t already find out in a background check.”

 

“How do you know I did a background check on you?” Castiel smirked at Dean’s flat look.

 

“Because I’m smarter than the average bear.”

 

“I don’t know what that means.”

 

“Seriously?  Smarter than the average bear. Yogi and boo? It’s a cartoon.” Castiel just looked back at him blankly. “Never mind. What would you like to know?”

 

“Dean Winchester didn’t exist until 16 years ago.  You are clearly older than 16. Interestingly enough, Sam Winchester came into existence at the same time. Odd, that, no?”

 

“Shit! I don’t um – I can’t – “

 

“Spit it out Dean.”

 

“Why?! Why do you need to know?” Dean shouted.

 

“Dean! Sit down and watch your tone.” Castiel’s voice was barely raised but it was like ice.

Dean immediately shrank back into his seat and glanced around.  He’d forgotten they were in a restaurant and now everyone’s eyes were on them.

 

“Fuck! I didn’t mean to yell. I just don’t like talking about that.”

 

“Be that as it may, tell me.”

 

Castiel’s voice was still hard and Dean knew he wasn’t getting out of this conversation.  Why the fuck he needed to know anything about his life before he was a Winchester was a mystery.  That wasn’t him anymore; or, at least, it hadn’t been him until a few days ago when he’d made his deal.

 

Dean stared at the wall past Castiel’s shoulder and began to speak. “My parents were never married.  Sammy and I were given my Mom’s last name. I don’t know why. When I was four, they split up. Dad went fuck knows where, and we never saw him again.  Mom had to work three jobs and we still couldn’t keep up with the bills. CPS was always knocking on the door. Always one more mistake from taking us away for good.  We moved around a lot. Mom was always tired. We didn’t see much of her. I took care of Sammy. It was fine. We were fine. Then one day the landlord came looking for the late rent.  Told Mom she could work it off in trade. I heard him. It was disgusting. She told him to come back later, after me and Sammy were gone to school. He was drunk or something though and wouldn’t take no for an answer.  He forced his way into the apartment and shoved my Mom. She fell over the couch and hit the coffee table. She didn’t get up. Once the landlord figured out what had happened, he called the police and CPS to come get us.  Sammy was crying and I knew that if CPS came, they’d split us up. I packed a bag, grabbed Sammy and climbed down the fire escape before they could get there. I was 12. Sam was 8. We survived, but I got into some trouble, and after a few of years I got arrested. I figured CPS probably still had an open file on us, so I broke out and Sam and I ran. I knew they would be looking for me, so I paid a guy to kill Dean and Sam Campbell. Winchester was my Dad’s last name. I saw it written on the back of a photo of them that she was burning but I never told her I knew. Sam doesn’t know either; he thinks I picked it because of the gun. He thought it would make us sound like bad asses or something. Idiot.”

 

The entire story was told in a flat tone with no expression.  The only sign of life came when he mentioned what Sam thought about their new namesake.

 

“Eat Dean.”

 

_ When had the food been delivered? _

 

“How did you manage to keep up with your schoolwork with CPS looking for you?”

 

“What?”

 

“Your schooling?”

 

“We didn’t, or I didn’t anyway.”

 

“Sam?”

 

“We couldn’t go to school, ok!  Don’t you understand? It was too dangerous with CPS looking for us!”

 

“Sam went to college, yes?  And law school. How did he manage to get in if he never even finished elementary school?”

 

“He went back to school after we changed our names. Seventh grade.”

 

“How did he manage that?  He’d been out of school for four years already. There’s no way – “

 

“What are you talking about? I taught him in those four years. We had fake papers made so he could go back after we changed our names. He was fine.”

 

“You taught him?”

 

“Yes.” Dean crossed his arms and scowled at the man across from him. “What’s the matter?  Don’t think I’m smart enough to teach my younger brother second grade math and reading?”

 

“I don’t think that at all. I’m just surprised is all.”

 

“Yeah, well.”

 

“What about your mother?”

 

“What about her?”

 

“What happened to her?”

 

“Were you not listening to the story you  _ made _ me tell you?”

 

“Her body, Dean.  What happened to her body?”

 

“I don’t know.” Dean deflated again.

 

“And your father?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be. You already knew all this anyway so why did you need me to tell you?”

 

“What makes you think I knew?”

 

“Because a couple of days ago you said Sam was my only family. You knew then.”

 

“Ah, I didn’t know for sure actually. It was a guess.”

 

“What?”

 

“Takes one to know one.” Castiel shrugged.

 

“Your family is all gone too?”

 

“More or less.”

 

“Hmmm”

 

“What were you arrested for when you were 16?”

 

“Don’t worry about it.”

 

“Dean.”

“No!”

 

“If something is going to come back to haunt you – “

 

“It won’t.”

 

“Dean.”

 

“It won’t. Dean and Sam Campbell didn’t just die.  They never existed. My mother’s children never existed.” Dean said, “And don’t you dare tell Sam about our last name.  Spousal privilege or fifth amendment rights or something.”

 

“That’s not quite how the fifth amendment works, but I won’t tell Sam.” Castiel conceded upon seeing the hard look on Dean’s face. “If you would just tell me about your arrest – “

 

“Leave it alone Castiel. I’m not telling you.”

 

“Dean.”

 

“Are we done shopping for the day or do we have more?” Dean said as he stood up from the table.  “I assume you have a card on file here too and we can just go?”

 

Castiel sighed, “Yes, we have more shopping to do, and yes, I have a card on file here as well.  Let’s continue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Доброе утро, сэр – Good morning sir
> 
> Меня зовут Самандриэль. Я веду домашнее хозяйство – My name is Samandriel. I manage  
>  the household.
> 
> Нет – No
> 
> Самандриэль, пожалуйста, вернитесь к своим обязанностям. Я жду завтрак через  
> тридцать минут - Samandriel, please return to your duties. I expect breakfast in thirty minutes.
> 
> Представить себя – introduce yourselves
> 
> Любовник - lover
> 
> Дорогая - sweetheart
> 
> Любимая – beloved
> 
> Пахан – Pakhan (mob boss)


	7. 316 + 2 days (Part 2)

By late afternoon, Dean was exhausted.  He had half a dozen new suits, 2 tuxedos and a wool peacoat being tailored.  He’d been pinned, measured and shown off for hours.  They’d picked out at least as many pair of shiny dress shoes, belts, ties, pocket squares ( _who the fuck wears a pocket square?)_ , and cuff links. He was also the proud owner of several dozen pair of the tight silky almost-boxer briefs that Castiel seemed to prefer Dean in (luckily, he hadn’t made him model those yet). His feet hurt, his head was throbbing, and he was still pissy from Castiel’s lunch time interrogation.

He was so ready to go home and nap, but apparently, they had one more appointment.  Dean groaned as Castiel dragged him towards a jewelry store at the end of the block.

“What kind of jewelry store takes appointments?”

“The expensive ones.”

“Fair enough. Are we almost done?”

“What, you don’t like spending someone else’s money?”

“Not really dude.  This is a lot, and why do I need so many dress up clothes?”

“Don’t call me dude, and they’re not dress up clothes.  They’re business and formalwear.  Dress clothes if you must.”

“Fine, but still.”

“As my husband you will be required to attend various functions at my side.  Your ‘dress up clothes’ will be needed then.  Other times you can wear your t-shirts. Come along now. We’re running behind.”

The glass of champagne Dean was handed upon entry to the jewelry store almost made up for the extended shopping trip.

“Let’s start with watches, shall we.”

“Sure, I guess.”

“Choose three for now, I think. Two dress and one for everyday wear.”

“I don’t really wear a watch.  I have my phone.”

Castiel just looked at him like he was being a difficult child.

“I’m just trying to save you some money here du – baby.” Dean made a face at that. _Where did that come from? OK, moving on._

“Two dress watches then.”

“Ugh, fine.”

It took half an hour for them to choose the two watches.  Castiel had flashier taste than Dean and after a while Dean quit trying to explain his choices and just started being contrary on purpose.  Castiel figured it out eventually and let Dean get his first and second choices.

“You are infuriating.”

“You shouldn’t ask for my opinion if you don’t want it.”

“Noted. Rings now.”

“What for?”

There was that look again.  The look Castiel gave him when he thought Dean was being obtuse on purpose.

“Would you prefer to exchange necklaces at our wedding?  Or tie clips perhaps?”

Dean blushed, “I forgot.”

The woman behind the counter looked a little concerned but didn’t dare say anything to scare away what was sure to be a huge commission.

“You forgot?”

“Not on purpose.  Its been a really long day and a really long – just - everything.”

“Fine. Does anything catch your eye?”

“Whatever I want?”

“Yes Муж.”

“You’re not going to argue with me for 30 minutes just because you can?” Dean smirked.

Castiel looked astonished, “That was you!  I wasn’t arguing for fun.  I was trying to explain the differences and you – “ Dean was laughing now. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

“Just a little.”

Castiel smiled, “Choose something Dean.”

 _So, he does have a sense of humor._  Dean took a couple of minutes to look at all the choices for men’s wedding ring sets.  He was kind of impressed that there were so many, but this was California after all. 

His eye kept wandering back to the same set over and over again until he finally asked for the bands to be pulled out.  One was a simple platinum band with a dark grey tungsten inlay running through the center.  The other was the exact opposite, a tungsten band with a platinum inlay.  They were simple and elegant, and he could see himself wearing either one.

“I like those.”

I was said quietly but Dean still jumped.  _When had Castiel moved so close?_

“Seriously, a bell! Jesus, you scared me!”

“My apologies.” Castiel said while the sales associate sniggered. “I think you should wear this one though and I’ll wear the darker one.”

The ring Castiel pulled out was exactly like the first one, mostly platinum with a bit of tungsten but it had 3 small diamonds running parallel to the inlay.  The diamonds were kind of pretty, Dean thought, and he could wear this one if it made Castiel happy.  If he was wearing diamonds, then that definitely made him the girl.

 _Well, shit_. “Sounds good to me.” Dean said

Castiel smirked like he knew exactly what Dean was thinking. “We’ll take these as well please.”

After everything was paid for and the rings were sent off to be sized, it was finally _finally_ time to go home.

It was after six when they got back to find Samandriel waiting to greet them.

“Добро пожаловать домой, господа.”

“English for Dean please Samandriel.”

“Apologies. Welcome home. Dinner is ready at seven.”

“Thank you. That will be all.”

Dean watched the quick exchange warily. Was this his life now? Bodyguards and servants to meet him at the door and thousand-dollar shopping trips? At least Frank had been unobtrusive all day. Dean had only noticed him lingering a handful of times.  Most of the time he’d forgotten he was even there.

“Does he always meet you at the door when you come home?”

“During the daytime hours, yes.”

“Why?”

“Come, lets get your things put away. All your new clothes will need to be laundered but everything else can be put away. I will show you.”

They made their way upstairs (without his purchases because they had apparently already been brought up – _what was his life?)_  and Dean was given a tour of his, frankly, ridiculous sized walk-in closet as well as an empty room down the hall that was going to be his ‘personal sanctuary’. Castiel had even used air quotes when describing it.

“You may do with this room whatever you wish.”

“It’s like…my bedroom?”

“No, your bedroom is _our_ bedroom.  The room we just left.  This room is for whatever you want that _is not_ a bedroom.”

“Uh, I don’t know what I’m going to do with a whole room, dude, er…Castiel.”

“Well, my grandmother used hers as a sewing room, my mother extended her closet, my sister and sisters-in-law have an art studio, a music room, a greenhouse and another large closet respectively.”

“Fantastic, so this is like the First Wives Club hideaway.” Dean mumbled. “Ok, I’ll figure it out.”

“Is this room not acceptable?  You may choose a different room if you’d prefer or we could build out a greenhouse or – “

“No. This is great. Thank you. I’ll think about what I’d like to do with it.”

The room was pretty nice once Dean actually looked.  It was a bit of an odd shape with several nooks and crannies, but it was big and airy.  It looked out over the back yard and during the day Dean would have a nice view of the grounds. There were 2 full walls of windows and a good-sized balcony with accordion doors opening on to it.  This could work.

“What did this room used to be?”

“I’m not sure. I have never used it for anything, and the last owner was a bit eccentric.  Many of the rooms were odd shapes or sizes and had to be redesigned.”

“Thirty-seven cats eccentric or eating his toenails eccentric?”

“I – what? He was a doomsday prepper,” Castiel smirked. “When I first purchased the property, I found an underground bomb shelter filled with Cold War foodstuffs, emergency supplies, and automatic weapons. I threw out the food and supplies and kept the weapons. There was also a panic room where your closet is now. It was outdated and unsafe, so I removed it.”

“Really?”

“Yes, it made putting the pool in a bit easier. We just replaced the bunker with it since the hole was already there, and the panic room is in the linen closet.”

“We have a pool?”

“Were you not paying attention during your tour yesterday?”

“Uh…no, not really.  I was kinda out of it, ya know?”

“Alright, lets have another tour then.”

Castiel took Dean through the house a bit more slowly this time.  By the time they made it back to the dining room for supper, Dean had seen all 5 guest bedrooms and bathrooms, the door to the mother-in-law suite (it was locked), the gym, pool, den, living room, sitting room, _formal_ dining room and Castiel’s office. It was overwhelming for Dean who had never lived anywhere larger than the 1,000 square foot apartment he’d shared with Sam when he was in college, and it was a far cry from the dirty hovels he and Sam had squatted in as children and teenagers and where Dean had recently found himself again. Thankfully, Castiel was kind enough to give him a minute alone while he checked on dinner.

By the time they were seated ( _in the regular dining room thank god_ ) Dean had pulled himself together. Dinner was chicken enchiladas with rice and homemade guacamole. It smelled amazing and Dean realized that he was absolutely starving as Samandriel set a plate in front of him.

“This looks awesome dude, but you don’t have to serve me.  I can totally get it myself.”

“Thank you, sir.” Samandriel beamed as Castiel said, “I prefer to be served.”

“Uh, ok, but I’m not a sir. It’s Dean.”

Dean noticed a quick glance between the two men and a barely imperceptible nod by Castiel as Samandriel said, “Of course, Dean.  I hope you like.”

“Is he not supposed to use my name?  I don’t want to get him in trouble or anything.”

“He asked permission and I gave it. He may use your given name.”

“That’s what that was huh? Ok. Why do you have him serve you instead of just getting your own food?  I mean, he already had to cook and everything. Also, isn’t he a little young. He can’t be more than what 20?”

Castiel just stared at him for a moment before he said, “You are full of questions this evening Муж. I have my plate served because I often work through dinner.  It is easier for me and Samandriel already knows what I like to eat so it’s not a problem. Also, he is not so young as he looks.”

“Will you still be working through most dinners now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m here now so will I be eating alone while you’re working or will you be joining me cuz I gotta be honest, if it’s just gonna be me, then I’d rather just eat in the kitchen with Samandriel. I mean, if that’s ok, of course.”

“I hadn’t thought about it, but if I’m not home or not available, you may eat wherever you’d like, including in the kitchen with Samandriel if he allows it.”

“What is a holdings company?”

If Castiel was thrown by the abrupt topic change, he didn’t show it. “Basically, it is a company that owns the majority voting stock of other companies.  Think of it like a parent company. We make decisions for them and reap the financial benefits without having to actually run or manage any of them.  Currently, Milton & Novak are ‘holding’ the assets of 113 companies.”

“And you take care of the financial stuff for all of them?”

“Not hardly.  That would be an impossible job for one person.  I only manage the finances of Milton & Novak, but my team and I do compile the financial information from every company we deal with and make recommendations and changes based on what we see.  We also run financial audits on companies we are prospecting.”

“So, math and spreadsheets?”

“Yes, I’m very good with a calculator.”

“Is 113 companies a lot?”

“Well, we are the largest Holdings company in the United States, so yes, 113 is a lot.  You needn’t worry about money, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Dean’s cheeks pinked up at that.  He was busted. “I wasn’t, but good to know. What – uh – what about your other job?”

“What about it?”

“What do you do?  Like what does your mob deal in? Drugs, prostitutes, money laundering, fake purses, porn?”

“Hmmm…not yet.  Let’s discuss our upcoming nuptials.”

“Uh, ok, I guess. Why do you always talk like that?”

“Like what?”

Dean gestured vaguely, “All formal and stuff.”

“It is how I was taught. Now, due to my ‘other job’,” Dean smirked at Castiel’s finger quotes, “there are some added security concerns.  It’s really a non-issue since weddings in our family are always held at the home of the Пахан.  Traditionally, the Пахан would need to give permission for the couple to marry, but seeing as how I am the Пахан, I obviously don’t need permission.  That does mean, however, that we will be holding our wedding on the grounds here.  I am very busy at work at the moment so we will not be able to take a honeymoon until later next year.”

“Uh, ok.”

“I have already filed for a marriage license and arranged for a judge to meet us here next Friday.  Your tux should be done by then.” Castiel continued, “Meg will stand as witness for me and Sam may stand for you. Does that sound acceptable?”

Dean couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed.  He never figured he’d ever be lucky enough to actually get married but he thought that if it ever did happen, he’d have much more of a production.  Flowers and wedding pie and a priest and, you know, guests.  This was not going to be that.  This was a formality in a tuxedo.  He may just as well show up in jeans for all it sounded like it mattered to Castiel.

“Yeah, that sounds fine.  Next week is fast though. Can it get done that quickly?”

“It is no problem.  Had there not been a required waiting period on the marriage license, we would be holding the ceremony this evening.”

Dean choked on his beer. “Right…of course…waiting period.”

Castiel looked like he wanted to say something else but wasn’t sure what to make of Dean’s response.

“So, uh, honeymoon?  You thinking next Summer or…?”

 “May, I think,” Castiel replied. “That is generally when I go up to wine country to check on our assets up there.  We can take a couple extra days if you’d like.”

So, a work trip poorly disguised as a honeymoon. Great.  May as well not even bother.  Dean didn’t even like wine, but, somehow, he was even more disappointed.

“Sounds great” he forced out over a smile. “Listen, today was kind of a lot so I’m going to go to bed, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Not just yet Муж. We have more to discuss, then you may run away and hide in the bedroom.”

“I’m not running away.  I’m tired.”

“Of course.  Please sit back down.”

Dean huffed but sat back in his chair.  _Would this day never fucking end?_ “What.”

“We must discuss the parameters of our agreement.”

“Parameters?”

“Rules.”

Dean stopped short at that.  He’d forgotten about the rules.  Time to see what his shackles were going to be made of he supposed. “Fine.”

Castiel sat up straighter. ‘ _This is going to be weirdly clinical,’ Dean thought._

“To begin, as my husband, you will belong to me alone.” Castiel held up is hand as Dean started to protest. “Mine will be the only touch you’ll know. No one else will have that privilege.”

“So now I can’t even hug my brother anymore?” Dean interrupted.

“I’m speaking of in the bedroom only, Dean. Don’t be ridiculous.” Dean blushed. “If I find out that you sought out or purposefully allowed anyone else to touch you intimately, things will go very badly for them.  They will, however, be worse for you and Sam.  I do not tolerate cheating in any form.” His pronouncement was given with a cold look and Dean could see the ruthless killer he was purported to be in his eyes.

Dean swallowed hard. “That’s no problem.  I’m not a cheater.”

“Good. You already know about the sleeping arrangements; however, I would like to add a caveat.  If I am not home, you may sleep in pajamas if it makes you more comfortable.”

“Are you not home a lot?”

“I often work long hours and the drive back is quite long.  I keep an apartment in the city. If I am going to be away, I will let Samandriel know.”

“Seriously?” Dean was pissed now. “You’ll let the house boy know you’re going to be gone but your husband doesn’t get the same consideration? Real nice Castiel. Maybe you should just tell Samandriel the rules and he can pass them on to me.”

“I have had enough of your snark for the day, thank you.” Castiel said sharply and Dean immediately shut up. “If you would like to know my evening plans, then I can certainly share them with you.  I will not, however, put up with you acting like a petulant child and throwing a fit every time something bothers you.”

Dean just stared at the table, fuming. _‘Fuck him’ Dean thinks_

“Moving on, you will wear only the type of clothing we purchased for you today.  You may, of course, shop on your own but no more thrift stores or big-box store clothes.  I have an image to maintain, and you are part of that image.  Additionally, if we are out, I expect you to act in a manner fitting your new status. Do not embarrass me.”

When Dean didn’t reply, Castiel continued. “You are required to have at least one of your companions with you at all times when you leave the house. No exceptions. You may not drive yourself anywhere and you must always let someone know where you are going.”

The rules went on and on. Don’t enter Castiel’s office for any reason without permission. Don’t bother Castiel when he’s working, _which is all the time apparently_. His downtown Novak & Milton offices are off limits unless it’s an emergency, as is the downtown apartment.  No visitors to the house without prior permission, the only exception is Sam and only sometimes. Do not try to learn Russian. _Dean suspected that this was because all Castiel’s illegal business was done in the language and he didn’t want Dean to know anything about it._ Always answer the phone, _oh, and by the way, here’s your new phone. I can access it anytime from anywhere to don’t try anything._ Use these credit cards or the pre-existing credit accounts previously mentioned only. _I can access those too so watch yourself._ Don’t carry more than $100 in cash at any given time. _Can’t run away if you don’t have access to money._ Give the names of all your friends to Meg so they can be vetted before speaking to them again. _That one was easy at least. Dean didn’t have any friends, not anymore._

Dean’s pretty sure he’s seen this movie before.  He’s going to end up doing some stupid little thing to piss Castiel off on a bad day and he’s going to end up dead somewhere.  That will be after they kill Sam in front of him to prove a point, of course.

Sammy – he’s hanging Sammy over his head.  He only mentioned him once, but Dean got the impression that if he screwed up even a little, Sammy would be the one to pay.  If Castiel was looking for Dean’s weak spot, he sure found it.  No surprise there.  He was well and truly trapped. It’s not like Dean was ever planning on reneging on the deal; he wasn’t even surprised that Sam was being used against him or that he was going to be watched constantly, but he had hoped he’d be able to have some sort a normal marriage and life. Apparently not.

He was nothing more or less than a prisoner in a gilded cage and fancy clothes. By the time Castiel was done speaking, Dean’s head was spinning.  He was finally allowed to head upstairs to bed while Castiel excused himself to his office to work.

Dean was so exhausted by the day’s events, he just dropped his new phone and credit cards on his nightstand, stripped bare and crawled into bed. He had even forgotten to hit the light switch before lying down but as his eyes slipped shut, he barely noticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Добро пожаловать домой, господа. – Welcome home sirs.  
> Муж – husband  
> Пахан – Pakhan (mob boss)
> 
>  
> 
> I based Novak & Milton off Berkshire Hathaway (Warren Buffet is the CEO if that gives you an idea). They ‘hold’ 112 companies.


End file.
